Echoes
by Silver Blazen
Summary: Steve hears a voice calling him back to the past; it's distant and surrendering but another voice is present and carries a sense of promise that only a friend can hear.
**Echoes**

 **All characters belong to Marvel Comics and Studios**

 **I own nothing**

The mission called out to him. There was no going back. Steve resolved to put his life on the line for James Barnes...It was a burden to carry alone. The scars that healed in a period of tortuous onslaught seemed buried deep into his soul. For the last year, he embraced the existence of being a disciplined soldier -nothing else. He couldn't move on; the life he endured was incomplete with broken promises to an unforgettable love and unbidden grief for a good and honorable friend.

Putting on the uniform gave him a chance to prove his worth again, Captain America wasn't a decommissioned war vessel chained to a harbor, and he had much to offer as storms loomed over the horizon. SHIELD used him as an instrument of compromise, a pawn to follow order; making him surrender his loyalties and face the dark truth, that every foundation that Howard Stark and Peggy Carter built had been plagued with the reconstruction of HYDRA's rebirth.

Everything felt unshakable. He couldn't fathom how much lies had steered him off course. The only person who deserved his trust was Sam Wilson, a good soldier to the cause of freedom and humanity, not a spy to recover secrets and vault them shut. He didn't want to use Sam as his anchoring support for missions; the VA paratrooper had to willingly make the choice to follow him through their next mission. Captain America was longer needed, it had to be the unyielding determination of Steve Rogers to endure the fight.

Looking down with rove of his dismal azure eyes, Steve opened the Soviet file, the only piece of hope that would lead him to Bucky. Visibly it was thin as paper, but as he balanced it over his palm, it weighted a certain heaviness -a sense of guilt that couldn't be shaken off. He dared to glance that each photograph; Bucky's frozen, deaden face left an imprint of remorse on his heart. It was time for HYDRA to pay:no matter the high cost of his freedom. He was the fighter of liberty, a true portrait that will not back down, not while a breath remains in his body. "I'm gonna to find you, Buck," he pledged his solemn words to the pain he carried, was a struggle to voice.

The brightness of the day seemed obscured, it wasn't from the overhang of branches filled with sprawled out green lush that shadowed in his clear azure eyes. A nightmare had been resurrected from his past, and it came in the form of his best friend. He brushed away a few tears that sluiced over the carved edges of his face. After one moment of self-conviction, Steve felt gravity faltering against him, as he uttered out his promise."Not matter where you go, I'm not giving up on you, pal."

"What's the next mission, Cap," He recognized the measure of solace dominating Sam's usual enthused tone. The soldier was there at his left, distant and prepared to follow the indomitable, and yet disgruntled captain once again to take the charge into battle. With an instinctive glance of his dark eyes, Sam keenly looked over the area, searching for a possible threat. He had Steve's back. "Where do we go from here, Steve?"

Steve didn't attempt to spare a glance at his companion."You're not coming with me, Sam," he grounded out a firm order; his authoritative baritone was laced with a rise of vexation."This is one mission I gotta do alone."

"I know...But remember I never signed up to be a soldier again, right? I gave you my word that I'll follow you through every mission. I'm asking you, as a wingman to let me shield your sorry ass again because I'm pretty sure it's going to get beaten up again." Steve leveled his blue eyes at him. He didn't need to say much. Sam already made his choice."So when do we start?"

Steve closed the file, he didn't face Sam, but a small grace of a smile pulled at his lips, he embraced the warmth caressing over his chiseled face, and involuntarily turned away from the vacant grave, looking back at the open road.

There was brief intrude against the silence, his shining blue eyes darted over the motorcycle parked at the curb, and trained a gaze sternly at his shield was prompt against a wheel. He effortlessly placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, a firm clasp of acceptance. Sam offered his grin equality, placing sunglasses over his eyes; it was time to move out.

"Try to keep up," Steve joked lightly, carrying brother assurance with him, a pulse of strength entered his heart, he was about to evoke on a dangerous and emotional testament, there so many directions to take. Saving Bucky Barnes wasn't just a rescue operation: it was his redemption.

With that, he gave Sam a gentle pat on the back, and then he strode passed the eroded tombstones, facing the day with his shoulders poised with rippling strength and Bucky's file close to his chest. He didn't look back."We've got a long road ahead of us, Wilson."

As the echoes of Steve's baritone died with traffic, Sam gazed down at the American flag planted in front of the grave. The faded colors seemed brighter all at once; as he looked back, and watched Steve adjust the shield over his back. Right there, Sam made his defining promise that he would never lose Captain America in his sight, no matter what the heights of danger could be, the Falcon will soar to catch him, but he'll make sure that Steve wouldn't have a big breakfast.

"Right behind you, Cap," Sam called out, his pace slow, knowing that Steve needed to go ahead of him.

 _I'm right behind you._

Steve looked over his shoulder and felt a smile grace across his lips as those words came to him. The weight of his burden didn't feel so heavy to carry, as he set his hopeful sights outward and remembered fond times of his childhood; mostly playing the game of hide- and- go seek that he used to play with Bucky, they always used the same hiding spot back in Brooklyn, a train yard.

"I'm coming for you, Buck," he declared in a low murmur, gripping the handlebars of his bike and started up the throttle, riding towards the highway that would lead him to Brooklyn.


End file.
